Shrink
by iEATfood
Summary: After a stunt gone terribly wrong Kick's parents forbid him from ever doing a stunt again. How will Kick survive the humdrum of being just a normal kid?
1. Live till you drop

_**(Author's note: Yay! My first KB fanfic! I had to rush to fill the void when I realized that there were very few fics here. This may turn out to be a KickxGunther fic, I'm still making up my mind on how I want the plot to go, so be warned!**_

_**Please R and R, and tell me what you think!)**_

**Shrink **

**Chapter 1: Live till you drop.**

There was nothing like the wind whipping past your face to make you feel alive. The vibrations of the handle bars of your scooter as it felt every bump every rock on your high speed race to oblivion. In fact nothing could make you feel as alive as barely avoiding death.

That's why Clarence Buttowski lived on the edge. It was a phrase often used but seldom understood. Basically it meant Clarence, known as Kick to his friends and admirers, stood on the edge of life and stared unblinkingly into the eye of death every single day, heart fluttering with fear and excitement. To Kick Buttowski adrenaline was a drug. The elixir of life. The cause for his being.

For anyone who has skipped a biology lesson. Adrenaline, you should know, is god's gift to humanity. This magic power that comes to you when you're scared. It makes your heart race. it slows down time, heightens the senses, makes you faster, makes you stronger and, more importantly, it made the petite daredevil, at this very moment hurtling down a steep incline, feel big.

At the bottom of the incline someone had built a ramp. The ramp over looked a gorge.

Although the people of mellow brook were indeed mellow, there was nothing mellow about the terrain. Mellow brook was home to some of the most terrifying drops, cliff faces, and jagged peaks that shot into the sky. Suburbia had been squeezed on top it like an ill-fitting suit.

On the other side of the ramp stood Gunther, he was the one who had helped Kick build the ramp. He was a fat, stout boy of Scandinavian descent. He had hair the color of lemon sherbet and a freckled face that was flushed with fear and excitement as he watched his friend perform his stunt.

Gunther helped kick with every stunt, No matter how much he worried or disapproved, because deep inside he really did believe in Kick's ability to overcome all odds, but He still made sure to tell kick about his concerns to try dissuade him somehow. Tell him that he didn't know about this. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Except today.

He'd seen the fire in kick's eyes and with a sinking feeling in his heart he knew that nothing he could say, nothing he'd ever said, could stop him. He decides instead to just trust Kick's judgment.

He bit his lip nervously as he watched Kick hit the ramp shooting up into the air. From Gunther's point of view he could barely see the look of pure ecstasy on his best friends face as he hung in the air striking a pose before Gravity took hold and Kick descended toward the other side of the gorge. with a sinking feeling it occurred to Gunther that Kick wasn't going to make it. His eyes raked kick's trajectory seeing how it fell below the mark.

BUT IT WAS KICK SO, OF COURSE, PHYSICS DIDN'T MATTER-

Before Gunther could even think Kick hit the ledge hard. The corner of it winding him before he slipped of the edge and fell out of site.

For a second, Gunther couldn't move he just stood there eyes as big as dinner plates. Then he screamed. "!" and ran, stumbling, toward the ledge. He peered down while fumbling in his pockets for his phone, His questing hands clutched the phone and yanked it, roughly, out of his pocket, nearly dropping it.

His sweaty, trembling, hands made holding the phone difficult as he dialed 911. "Hello 911? I need an ambulance!" He was quite for a second listening to the irritable woman on the other side. "YES, it's me AGAIN." He admitted, annoyed, you'd expect people to care no matter how many times you've been in this situation before. Although, she was right, this wasn't the first time. Gunther started to relax the buzz of panic abating from his ears. Kick's crashed many times before, usually coming out of it with nothing more than a few broken bones. "Pleease send an ambulance!" He insisted. "I'm at the gorge of Death, near Calm Street." He put the phone away and ran down the shortest route to the bottom of the gorge, tripping and slipping on loose gravel several times.

Thankfully the gorge of death wasn't too deep, despite its name a fall into it would probably only maim a person not kill, so it wasn't long before Gunther found Kick.

He was lying on his back, looking pale and still in a small pool of blood.

"No no no nononono" whispered Gunther to himself as he hurried to Kick's side. He checked for a heart beat.

There was one, faint but persistent. THANK GOD! THANK THOR! THANK THE MERCIFUL HEAVENS!

BECAUSE he was Kick's best friend Gunther knew allot of first aid. It has bubbling up in his panic-stricken mind in bits and pieces...don't move him...stem the bleeding...

Blinking back tears, he slowly, carefully, unzipped Kick's jump suit to look for the source of the blood.

A large purple bruise colored Kick's stomach where he had hit the ledge, it turned into a bloody gash by his side. The blood stuck his clothes to his skin. It made a horrible stomach turning sucking noise when Gunther peeled the outfit away from the wound.

He took a deep ragged breath to steady himself and, with big fat tears dripping down his face, put as much pressure on the wound as he dared...

Kick woke up in the hospital, not quite sure how he got there. His last memory was of him soaring in the air, Gunther a blond blob in the distance.

A sharp pain shooting up and down his side reminded him though. He blew that jump. OTHER daredevils jumped the Grand Canyon and he couldn't manage a local gorge.

Well, obviously, he was going to have to try again.

There was a muttering in the hospital room that quickly died down once his parents noticed he was awake.

His family surrounded the bed looming over him, except for Brianna who was too young to loom effectively. Kick, who had been expecting some sympathy, was surprised to see that his mother looked furious, unnerved he tried to sink into his pillow.

Even his father looked unusually grave, like someone had died. It was anyone's guess at whatever human emotion Brad was attempting, but whatever it was it was downright terrifying.

"Kick..." His mother started before, apparently, deciding that she had to use a sterner tone. "Clarence Francis Buttowski-"

Kick flinched at his full name, it was a mouthful for even his parents and them using it meant he was in for a terrible punishment.

"Do you know that you nearly died?" She continued, her question turning into a shriek midway.

"I did?" Asked Kick, looking more amazed than scared.

"Going down a cliff and into a gorge!"

"I was trying to go past it."

"HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID?"

Kick knew better than to protest at this point. His mother was on the verge of tears it added a stabbing pain in his heart to his menagerie of aches, and Brad was looking more terrifying by the minute.

After taking a few seconds to compose herself she went on. "That's it, Kick, we've had it." She reached over and pulled Kick's helmet off his head.

There was a scream. It came from Gunther, who Kick had not noticed in the room till that moment. He was in the farthest corner of the room probably to avoid getting yelled at by Kick's mother, and had screamed because he'd never seen Kick without his beloved helmet and had been expecting something terrible to be under it.

It was the most frightening case of hat hair but nothing more. Kick had short cropped brown hair that had been plastered on to his head by his helmet.

Kick ran a hand through his hair trying to get the blood to circulate. Sullenly, he asked. "What are you going to do with helmet?" Half excepting her to snap his helmet in half against her knee. She just looked that angry!

Instead she did something worse she looked him in the eye and said. "No more stunts, Kick, EVER."


	2. Trapped

bA/N: So...horray! I finished the next chapter. It..might not be as good as the first.. /b

Kick lay on the hospital bed and grimly pondered his mother's words. No more stunts? Every fiber at his being blanched at the thought. He could barely go a day without tasting the sweet allure of adrenaline. Giving it up all together would KILL him!  
"Kick, are you okay?" Gunther asked in a small quavery voice, he and Brad were the only ones in the room. Kick's mother had gone to talk to the doctor and his dad left for home to put Brianna to bed.  
Kick tried to get up, failed, and decided to stay lying down but in a slightly more determined angle, Like a fallen war hero.

"Of course I'm okay, Gunther, it's just a little scratch."

Brad made a noise like a crow trying to pass a kidney stone. Kick guessed it was supposed to be a scoffing noise, it was hard to tell with Brad...

"A scratch? You were nearly a goner! You crazy, ego-maniacal, tiny..tiny" A look of exquisite pain crossed Brad's face it was as if somebody had chose in that second to run a spike through his leg. Brad stuffed his fist into his mouth. "A' gogga 'O!" He said quickly rushing out of the room.

Kick watched him leave, feeling a little confused and worried. He'd never seen Brad act like this. He decided to turn his attention to Gunther, who hasn't said much since he woke up. "Can you believe it, Gunther? No stunts? I can't not do stunts!" He grumbled hoping for some empathy from his best friend.  
Gunther started to fidget instead. "Um.. are you sure?"

Kick said nothing, the question made no sense.

"Cause there's alot of other SAFER things you can do." Gunther continued. "Like board games or..or knitting."

Kick stared silently at Gunther for a while. "What about knitting needles?" He finally replied.

Gunther face grew pale. "Okay, not knitting! not knitting!"

"What's wrong with you?" Kick asked, narrowing his eyes.

"nothing! It's terrible!..that ..you can't do stunts anymore!" Gunther answered, trying to escape his gaze like a criminal hiding from a search light. He steeled himself with a steadying breath. He'd been hoping to avoid this confrontation but knew it was inevitable. He leaned forward resting his hands on the hospital bed and looked straight into Kick's eyes. "But you're not gonna try and do any even though your mom told you not to, are you?" He breathed.

Kick's mouth went dry, Gunther's blue eyes were drilling into his very soul. He had, in fact, been thinking of doing something like that. A daredevil is what he was, he couldn't just quit his calling, nothing could make him stop and he was proud of it. But somehow Gunther managed to make him feel guilty about it. He opened his mouth to deny it, but stopped. Gunther had always been completely loyal and always on his side, he wouldn't, shouldn't, ever be against Kick's stunts. "'might.." He said truthfully.

Gunther bit his bottom lip, his hands on the hospital bed curled into fists dragging the sheets around them. Kick could feel the disapproval hanging heavy in the air. "you know being a daredevil is my life." He reminded Gunther quickly, hoping to disperse the tension in the air. It did, but only to make room for a heavier more suffocating air. Tears welled up in Gunther eyes.

"Guuuunnttthhheerrrr" Kick whined and hid his face. Not wanting to look upon or share any soft feelings. "I know it's your life.." Gunther said softly "And you can do whatever you want with it, but I don't want to see you die."

Kick groaned still hiding his face.

"You're my best friend." Gunther continued, His voice catching on the word 'best'.

"okay, okay" Kick interrupted, looking up and putting a hand on Gunther's "No more stunts. For you and for Mom, I'll stop doing anymore stunts." He promised quickly, hardly believing the words comic out of his mouth. Kick's heart sank as Gunther beamed with relief.

The time that Kick spent in hospital was long and frustrating. He was bedridden but unused to the lack of movement. His usual trick of pushing the bed out into the hallway and then down the stairs was denied to him by his promise of not doing anymore stunts. So he was forced to lay there sullenly as Gunther tended to his every need like an over bearing mother hen, getting him snacks and comic books in a desperate attempt to keep his mind off stunts. He was still stuck in bed when Horace and Pantsy came over to coax Brad, who was in tears, apparently, out of the bathroom. It was a month before Kick was finally released from that dreaded prison they called a hospital.

As soon as he was out he wondered why he had been so anxious for this moment. He was still trapped without his daredevil antics.

When the time came to get ready for school, it occurred to Kick that he could no longer wear his Daredevil suit, without the helmet it was incomplete.

Thankfully, despite the fact that he wore the same thing everyday, his mother kept his closet well stocked.

He put on some jeans and a shirt, feeling uncomfortably mundane. The shirt was a size too big for him and reached below his hips even though the tag had mockingly claimed that it was Xtra Small.

He blushed at his reflection in the mirror, a terrible stab of insecurity welled up in his gut. What would his school mates think of the new him? What would Kendall say? And why did he care so much?

He tried to shake the feeling off, turning away from his reflection. "ugh, why am I so short?" He asked himself for the first time in his life.

Gunther was waiting for him at the door. as soon as he walked out the little Nordic boy's eyes bugged out of his skull. "You look so different, Kick." He breathed.

"I'm still the same inside.." The ex-daredevil muttered gruffly. He hoped that was true. Truth was, without the stunts there didn't seem to be much left to him, he could hardly be called Kick Buttowski when he no longer Kicked Buttowski.

Without the daredevil lifestyle he was just plain ol' Clarence Buttowski, Child of suburbia. NORMAL kid. 


	3. Grey

Gunther watched Kick anxiously as they rode the bus to school. He knew he was asking too much from Kick, expecting him to stay away from stunts.  
He worried that Kick was mad at him and kept scanning his best friend's face for signs of that anger.

He DID look angry. But, it was hard to tell who that anger was directed at. He was glaring at nothing, and had sunk so low in his seat that only his head was vertical.

Possibly, he was mad about the fact that no-one noticed him getting into the bus, when usually his brightly colored suit made sure every eye in the room gravitated towards him. Gunther felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

"You said Kick would be back by now, Gunther! What's the deal?" Jackie, Kick's crazed fan, hissed into his ear.

"He's right here!" Gunther explained gesturing towards the seat next to him.

Jackie stared at the creature seated next to Gunther. She was so used to seeing Kick as a set of bright colors and a helmet.

"Kick!" She squealed in horror, grabbing Kick by the scruff of his neck and lifting up to her eye level. "Where's your helmet?"

"His mom took it cause he's not allowed to do stunts anymore" Gunther answered for him.  
You might as well have killed a puppy in front of her. "W-whaaaat?" She gasped dropping Kick. "NO!" She picked up Kick again, who tried to struggle out of her grip. "Don't give up stunts! It's your calling, your destiny!"

Gunther took one glance at the look of longing on kick's face, and started pushing Wacky away. "Back! Back, you she-beast!"

After he had gotten Jackie, growling and spitting, to retreat back to her seat, Gunther turned to Kick. "Are you okay?"

Chin on his hands, elbows on his knees, Kick stared into the distance, looking haunted.

"I don't think I can do it, Gunther." He whispered his voice sounding high-pitched and drawn. "Not forever..."

Gunther took Kick's hand in his. "You can do it, Kick, You can do anything."

The Ex-daredevil smiled nervously up at his friend. There was a tapping at the window. Kick frowned and turned around.

Outside the window, silky hair dancing the breeze was..

"Gordon Gibble." Kick hissed and opened the window.

Gordon was riding a bike along side the bus and somehow suspended in midair.

"Hey, Mr and Mrs Buttowski!" He laughed. Gunther and Kick quickly let go of each other's hands.

The cycling socialite didn't seem to notice. "Like my new ride? It's the latest model, AND it can fly!" He added, as though that wasn't glaringly obvious. "Too bad you're never going to get to race it! what with you quitting stunts or whatever!"

"where'd you hear that?" Kick asked defensively.

"I have my sources!" Gordon quipped. "Have fun being a loooser, Buttowski!" And with a cackle he rode straight up into the air.

Kick watched him as he disappeared into the cloud, silently envying him. When the school bus hah finally reached its destination Kick was beset by a jittery sensation. It wasn't nervousness, but the fact that he had already gone several months without feeling his blood pump. It was Gordie's bike that had done it. He desperately wanted to race it.

He tried to swallow the feeling back down.

"Clarence?" A voice greeted him as he walked into class. It was Kendall, sitting properly with her notebook and pencils aligned perfectly on the desk before her. Her eyes fluttered with disbelief and a smug smile spread across her sharp features. "Is that you?"

"No" He answered avoiding her gaze and throwing himself into his seat.

"Oh, don't sulk, Clarence, I think it's a good thing! Your recklessness was going to get you killed..."

"No-one cares what you think, Kendall." Kick Huffed.

Kendall looked hurt for a second then turned away with an indignant sniff. "Fine, be that way."

Class started with Clarence still in a bad mood. He was sullen even as Mrs Fitzpatrick congratulated him on a quick recovery, though he did mutter a quick thanks, and as she went on to remind him that he had missed a lot these past months and will be expected to attend after school classes to catch up.

Clarence didn't care, past the feeling that he had been punished enough and didn't need any extra classes. Already his concentration was wavering. Class was usually boring but today it was unbearable and it had just started.

He tried twice to follow the teacher's droning voice before turning to the view outside the window. Everything seemed grayer.

Just then the door burst open snapping Kick out of his reverie. he looked around hopefully. Maybe a criminal organization had burst in guns blazing. Any excuse to be reckless would be welcome, but standing at the door war Ronaldo the physics nerd. Kick sank back into his seat with a sigh.

Ronaldo was out of breath, like he had just ran here from the science lab. Despite this, he was trying to gloat.

"So I heard your days of.." He stopped to catch his breath. "Your days of defying the laws of physics are over." He walked towards Clarence's desk, who refused to look at him. He was NOT in the mood for this.

"Don't bother." Said Gunther coming to the rescue. "Gordie's already goaded Kick"

Ronaldo stopped. "Who's Gordie?"

"...and he's richer than you." Gunther continued. "So don't bother."

"WHO'S GORDIE?" Ronaldo repeated in frustration.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick decided to put a stop to this. "Ronaldo! Don't you have a class to attend?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fitzpatrick!" Ronaldo chirped, turning from evil mastermind to toadstool in a split second and scurrying out of the classroom, flashing Clarence a scowl as he left.  



	4. Suddenly Squirrels

After school, Gunther put an arm around his little friend and smiled to himself. He knew that Kick felt humlitiated and troubled and he had a plan.  
'Come with me, Kick" He breathed, a little too eagerly. In a better mood Kick would've rolled his eyes at his mock flirtation but today he was silent and sullen. He let Gunther steer him off the usual path. Leading him into a patch of green.  
They stopped at the foot of a tree. Gunther gave Kick an expectant smile.  
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Asked Kick wearily.  
"I know you're bored now that you can't do any stunts, so I kinda figure you need a new hobby. And you know what I do when we're not doing stunts?"  
"uuh. Bake?"  
"I come here and watch squirrels!"  
Kick looked up at the large gnarled and weathered tree, he couldn't see any movement on it's branches. "There are squirrels in this tree?"  
"yeah, They're really shy though" Replied Gunther lowering his voice to a whisper. "so you have to be quiet" He lay down on the grass pulling Kick down next to him.  
Tired, and not expecting much from this whole thing, Kick stared up at the trees branches, patches of light shone through the tree's leaves. Next to him, he could hear the whistling of the deviated septum in Gunther's left nostril. It tended to get irritatingly loud in situations that demanded silence.  
Annoyed, Kick closed his eyes.  
"A SQUIRREL!" Gunther screamed. Kick eyes snapped open, but it was too late.  
"Aww, It ran away...Why'd it do that?" Gunther muttered settling down again.  
Kick glared up at the tree that stood between his friend and his squirrels. "You want squirrels? I'll give you squirrels." he stated getting up.  
"Kick, what are you doing?" Stammered Gunther, as Kick scurried up the tree. "Kick! we're supposed to be squirrel WATCHING. Kick!"  
Kick leaped effortlessly from branch to branch.  
"Kick, you'll get hurt!"  
Kick let himself fall forward, chin up, arms to his side and with a smirk on his face. He enjoyed the small lick of fear causing his heart to pump faster and the way Gunther's eyes seemed rivited to him. Just when it seemed like he was falling he caught a branch and flipped himself up. "you think so?"  
Gunther hesitated. He did think so. Kick up in the tree, far from where he could reach him. Kick with the penchant to throw himself off things, with the growing need to look death in the face left a cold feeling in his lungs and a sour taste in his mouth. he found himself panicking. "What if your mom gets mad?"  
"What she doesn't know wont hurt her." Kick said, grinning, as he made his was up higher, flipping and using the branches like slingshots. The freedom was too welcome, too sweet to pass up now. His wound, so close to being nothing but a scar, protested occaisionally, but even the pain felt good now, a sharp awakening that washed that exsausting school day away from him.  
"What if *I* get mad..?"  
Kick stopped, he was so close to the top but couldn't go on. "what?"  
"What if I get mad? What if I don't want you getting yourself hurt? What if I'm sick of this, Kick?"  
Kick stared down at Gunther, The words stunned him. He couldn't answer them. He didn't know. He looked up at the expanse of sky above him, blue and inviting and back down again at Gunther with his crocs planted firmly on the ground. He climbed back down.  
Gunther sighed with releif and smiled. Kick walked up to him, he wore a grim expresion that made Gunther's smile waver, when they were nose to nose Kick asked again. "what?"  
"uummmm?"  
"You never had a problem with my stunts before."  
"You never nearly died!"  
"Billy Stumps didn't stop doing stunts when he lost his arm! Why should I stop just cause I lost a little blood? Just cause you want me to?"  
"You're so selfish, Kick! And..and Billy Stumps is stupid!"  
Kick gasped in horror. "You take that back!"  
"No!"  
"I said, take it back!" He raised a fist.  
"No I wont! This is why you don't have any other friends, Kick, because you're a jerk!"  
"you're the one who's being a jerk! you're supposed to be on my side!"  
Gunther's face scrunched up with conflicting emotions. With a short exasperated "graah!" he turned around and walked away.  
Kick watched him leave, fuming.

Honey Buttowski smiled as she did her daughter's hair. She couldn't help but spoil her daughter, after two sons she was a breath of fresh air.  
The Buttowski family were all in the living room. Honey was sitting on the couch, with Brianna on her lap. Brianna was telling her about a friend of a friend of a friend. The head of the household, Harold was pinned to the TV, and in the darkest corner of the room Brad was playing a hand-held video game.  
The front door slammed open and Kick stormed in.  
"what's the matter, Kick?" his mom asked, concern lining her features.  
"Nothing!" her tiny son roared, running up the stairs "I just hate everyone!"  
The family all paused what they were doing as they heard the door to Kick's room slam shut.  
Harold shrugged. "I remember when Brad went through that phase"  
"I STILL hate everybody" Muttered Brad, turning back to his video game.

Kick lay face down on his bed and groaned. His life was over. It was bad enough he couln't do stunts, the thing he had devoted his life to, but now Gunther was lost to him too.  
How could Gunther do this to him? He was supposed to believe in him, after all they've been through together did he honestly think Kick couldn't take care of himself? That he was going to fail?  
Enraged he rolled over and glared at the ceiling. He was angry and emotion stung his eyes, but he refused to show weakness.  
He wasn't small. He wasn't weak. All he needed was a skate board and he could take on the world. It didn't matter what Gunther, what everyone, thought.  
He'd show them.  
He could hear, muffled by the walls, his family talking and enjoying themselves downstairs. They didn't seem to care. They hardly ever did.  
He sat up and looked out the window. He could see Gunther's house across the cul de sac. He had half hoped to see some large sign plastered outside of Gunther window with 'I'm sorry, Kick' scrawled on it. but the house was still and uninviting.  
Making a decision Kick opened the window, somewhere out there was an unattended skateboard and a gorge nobody thought he could jump.

The ramp he and Gunther built was still there. It had weathered several downpours and a storm and was worse for wear. The structure was now lopsided, here and there the wood planks that made up it's frame had buckled and stuck out at odd angles. It didn't need to be overlooking a gorge to be death trap now, but Kick didn't care. He WANTED it to be dangerous. He wanted it to be big and unbeatable. So when he beat it he'd be unbeatable too.  
He climbed up the ladder Gunther had built up it's side, The ramp creaked alarmingly under his weight but held.  
The wind whipped through his hair when he got up top. Though the day had been sunny up here there was a cold biting breeze. He put down the skateboard he had snatched from someone's backyard and balanced a foot on it, letting roll backward and forwards under his foot, testing it.  
He looked down the expanse of the ramp, trying to find a path that didn't hold any loose nails and jutting boards.  
He found it. He set off.  
The noise of the skateboards wheels thudding against the wood was deafening. A nail came loose and zipped past his head. He ignored it and sped up.  
The stucture moaned. Shuddering loose its nails and dropping. nails flw dangruosly around him in seemingly slow motion. Kick who had the amazing ability to always know what he looked like from the outside thought he looked pretty cool.  
The ramp was about to arc up. He got ready to shoot into the sky but, unfortunatly, the wood was to weak. Instead of going up. He smashed through the wood and down.  
Down into the gourge.  
And stopped.  
Kick looked down at the treacherous rocks below. His skateboard smashed against them without him. Was he floating? He looked up.  
Between the Ramp in it's death throes and the cliff face, a round freckled face looked down at him.  
It was Gunther, he had grabbed the back of Kick's shirt. He pulled him up and out of the way of the falling ramp.  
Kick wanted to ask Gunther what he was doing, or where he came from, but couldn't because his face was quickly shoved between Gunther's sweaty man breasts.  
"Omigosh, Kick! are you okay? what did you think you were doing? you don't even have a helmet on!"  
Kick managed to peel his face away from Gunther's chest. "Gunther, where'd you come from?"  
Gunther stopped mothering him for a second to look embarrased. "Oh, I knew you'd come here." He blushed, too ashamed to admit that had actually just come up here to hide under the ramp and cry, and his punching the ramp in anguish might have been what weakened it.  
Kick absorbed this.  
"thanks, Gunther." He muttered eventualy. He could feel Gunther shivering, and was starting to feel guilty. It uccured to him that he hadn't been taking into account how Gunther must've been feeling.  
"I'm sorry"  
He meant to say it but it was Gunther who said it. It only managed to make him feel guiltier.  
"I didn't mean to take a side that isn't yours. I just don't want to ever have to lose you."  
Strangly he always felt a rush of joy and excitment after every stunt, but here in Gunther's arms he felt stupid.  
"I...have a problem, I guess." He slumped, defeated.  
Gunther just held him, running hands through his hair.  
"I'm sorry, Gunther."  
Gunther sighed. "It's okay, Kick, I know you love stunts more than anything."  
Kick's heart sank further. He started to protest. "Not more than-" He stopped himself because he knew it was going to sound a lot more intimate than he meant.  
He reworded his sentiments in his head. "Gunther, if I had to choose between having you as a friend or doing stunts again, I'll choose you..."  
Gunther's lower lip wobbled. "ya mean it, Kick"  
Kick didn't reply, already the violin music in the background were taking this bromantic scene into uncomftrable territory. "let's go home, Gunther."  
And they DID.  
Kick had to admit, it wasn't SO bad, not doing stunts all the time, so long as you had a friend to keep life exciting.  
And MAYBE.  
EVENTUALLY.  
IF HE WAS GOOD.  
His mom would give him his skateboard back.

THE END  
(this is what I get for starting a fic without an ending in mind...)


End file.
